


the hand that rocks the cradle rocks the boat

by bipp_splapl



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Bootlegging, Canon-Typical Gang Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Long Shot, Multi, Murder Mystery, Newspapers, Organized Crime, Private Investigators, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, fellas....get ready for a long one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bipp_splapl/pseuds/bipp_splapl
Summary: There's trouble in Hope's Peak. Murder! Mystery! Intrigue! It's mob time baby, ratta ratta tat ratta tat tat tatta.
Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Naegi Komaru, Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto, Nidai Nekomaru/Owari Akane
Comments: 25
Kudos: 44





	1. foreword

**Author's Note:**

> fellas......this is gonna be a long one. thank you for sticking with me.

Fellas....i wasn't planning on starting this until my thh!afterlife au was done but,,,,mobster time. Welcome to "the hand that rocks the cradle rocks the boat" an elaborate mobster!au murder mystery story between sdr2 and thh.

a few things to note! this will include canon-typical violence/language. this is a murder mystery, and i am inspired by a large variety of roaring twenties-era stories and narratives. there will be crime. there will be murder. there will be intrigue. it will be fun.

the characters in this series will be aged up to late twenties/early thirties. there will be no sexual content in the series (don't age-up to sexualize ppl that's gross af!!!!) the age change is because i thnk it would be weird to assume all of these characters are running the underworld and or are professional investigators at like. age 17. so they are changed to a more story-appropriate age.

trigger warning for death, violence, gore, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping, gang, crime, corruption. it's all canon typical stuff but with a new setting. i do not condone this behavior

feel free to hypothesize about what will happen in the comments below ! i have most of it drafted and/or planned out right now (6/25) and would love to hear ur takes. i am including all of the thh and sdr2 characters in the tags right now, and they will be introduced as they are introduced. plz don't rush me. i am but a dude. 

plz consider bookmarking this, it's gonna be long. 

my social media is all @bipp_splapl on insta, tiktok, tumblr and spotify. i love making character playlists and am putting together a just jazz one for this one. yeehaw. 

im so excited. i hope you are too !! 


	2. ain't that the way it goes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a stormy night in the city of hope's peak.

Lights flickered across puddles, a warm streetlamp glow reflecting in the still pool. If you didn’t know any better, it could have been twilight, a starry sky long before the creation of man. But the shimmer was thrown apart, water droplets splattered each way by a skidding car tire—the destruction of man. 

This was a puddle. This was a street. All glitz and glow were washed away, and in its wake left the underbelly. This was a gutter.

Two pairs of shoes stepped off the road onto the sidewalk, one slightly trailing the other—witching hour. No one should be up, which made it the perfect time to be. As the pair walked down the cobblestone street, one’s toe box got stuck in the bricks, stumbling forward. They would have gone down, had the other not caught them. 

“Careful.”

“I know.”

The two figures pushed on, dodging street lights and car lights, sticking to the shadows. They parked a few blocks away to avoid detection, but the air was wet and the road slippery. One let out a moan from the drizzle. Fat raindrops were nice, but this was drizzle, sharp and stinging. Their partner shushed them, and they walked together in silence.

After walking a few more blocks and taking a left, the two arrived at their destination. The Hope’s Peak Herald. A shitty name for a shittier paper. One of them picked up a soggy paper from the stack, waiting for today’s delivery. The rustling pages called little attention to the pair. 

“...they still can’t find that Maizono girl, you know that?” They said, holding the paper to the lamplight. 

“Shame, I liked her stuff.” The other reached over, grabbing the copy from their hands. “Have they figured anything out?” 

“Only that she’s gone missing.”

“She was nice enough, but not star quality.” The person shook their head, flipping in a few pages further. 

“Crazy how a case can run cold like that.”

“Crazy, if it weren’t for the fact someone covered it up, ain’t that the way it goes.”

“Ain’t it. How’s the stock market?”

“Stable.”

“Thank god, I got some money invested right now.” There was a _click, click_ , and then _whoosh_ , a small flicker from a lighter. The shadow held a cigarette to their lips, watching the smoke waft upwards. “And the baseball league?”

“Stable.” 

“Good. Got some money invested there, too.”

 _Rustle rustle rustle_. “This is all old news anyways, nothin’ good.”

“Not now maybe…” gloved hands slipped into the bag, pulling out an envelope. “But that’ll change.”

“Ain’t that the way it goes.”

“Ain’t it.” 

Hands knocked the paper to the ground. Before its reader could react, the cigarette was thrown onto its pages, watching them slowly catch flame. The pair watched the way paper curled in on itself, newsprint fading to ash. 

One turned to the other. “Why’d you do that?”

The other considered their words. “It’s a control thing.” A shoe stepped forward, stomping out the flame. The other nodded. “Are we good here?”

“Yeah.” The envelope was slipped under the office door. With that, the pair walked away, back the way they came. 

And far above the city stood a man and his can of paint. From the water tower, everything looked so small. From down below, so, too, would his message. Block letters scrawled in white paint: 

**THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE ROCKS THE BOAT**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehehehhehheheheheheh MOB


	3. jeezum crow!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donuts! coffee! byakuya togami! laugh and a half bby

Makoto Naegi needed a new alarm clock. The one he had now was old and rusty, a gift from Komaru when he moved to the city, but that was what, three years ago? Daily use had worn it down, poor thing. 

This was the third time in two weeks he woke up late, which threw off his entire morning plan. He’d already missed the trolley and hoping for a taxi during rush hour was a fool’s endeavor. So instead, he took off on foot, running twenty blocks in slacks and a sweater. He’d look like hell. Togami would have to forgive him.

That’s the thing about private investigation - it’s private. Naegi didn’t have any police chases or gunfights to deal with - hell, even if they were put on that sort of case, that’s Kirigiri’s domain. He specialized in research and analysis, preferring books smarts to street smarts. Maybe he’d gone soft-

Considering how a ten-minute run left him winded, he certainly had.

Makoto rounded the corner with a wheeze, practically throwing himself through the doors of Hanamura diner. A few heads turned at the commotion but looked away, focused on their food. There wasn’t a gun. There wasn’t a money bag or ski mask. Nothing to see here. Panting, he made his way to the counter - as he approached the waitress turned, a bag in hand. 

“Half dozen glazed donuts, a thermos of coffee, and one cheese danish, Mr. Naegi!”

“Thanks Aoi,” he smiled, placing the bills on the counter. “You always know.”

“Anything for our favorite regulars-”

“Mmmmmmhm, our only regulars!” Teruteru called from the kitchen, wiping grease off his forehead. “Tell Byakuya to come get the food himself next time. I have a special thank you for him~”

“I think I’m good!” Makoto said, one foot already out the door. Hard pass. Only a few doors down was the lobby to their building. Giving a nod to the guard, Makoto made his way up the stairs two at a time. 

“Frankly, I think you’re misunderstanding the entire dilemma-” 

Makoto walked in on what seemed to be another moralistic debate between Togami and Kirigiri, the boss and his top investigator (well, his _only_ investigator). Togami sat in his chair, leaning forward with his elbows planted firmly on the tabletop. Kirigiri leaned against his desk. As he crossed to his cubicle, the two coworkers gave him a small nod of acknowledgment but stayed focus on the conversation at hand.

“We need to get to the bottom of this investigation, even if that means exposing one of our investors for fraudulent behaviors”

“Keep telling yourself that. If we don’t have any investors, we won’t have any investigations-”

“What’s up with them?” Crossing to Toko’s desk, Makoto handed the secretary the box of donuts for the first pick. 

“N-nothing out of the ordinary.” Toko was fidgeting with something before shoving them back into her desk drawer. She nodded at the pair (more like a jerk than anything.) “They’ve b-been at it all morning…”

“Think they noticed I’m late?”

“Oh, definitely. H-have you heard from your sister any?”

“No, you?”

Toko looked at him with a small smile, taking her donut and dipping it in her cup. “M-maybe…”

Byakuya and Kyoko were still going at it. Their conversation had gotten much more heated, with both standing at this point. Toko rolled her eyes before returning to her typewriter, working on her newest manuscript. Togami didn’t care what she did at work. He did, but that never stopped her before. 

Makoto placed the rest of the thermos and pastries on the central table before finally taking a seat at his desk, morning paper in hand. The third day in the missing person investigation...stock markets record high...baseball season projected for record turnouts....as he flipped to the weather report, a piece of paper slipped out. Across the top was the word **SUPPLEMENTAL** in big, bold letters. 

Glancing it over, Makoto did a quick double-take gripping the piece with both hands. Eyes flew across the words, absorbing the sentences more than reading them. Towards the end, he let out a _Jeezum Crow_ , pushing his chair backward. All three heads in the room turned towards the investigator. He looked up wildly, more confused than anything.

“Daiya Oowada is dead!” 

Kyoko glanced over at Togami, who seemed just as surprised as Makoto. But his look of surprise quickly morphed into one of befuddled amusement, giving a small shake of the head. 

“Well I’ll be damned. Pass that over here, Makoto.” 

The shorter boy nodded, practically scrambling over. “It says right there, ’Daiya Oowada, famous crime underlord, killed as part of a turf war statement.’ They think it’s got something to do with the yakuza.” 

As he crossed, he grabbed the danish from the pastry pile, placing it on his boss’s desk. Togami took the paper and pastry, one in each hand, reading it over for himself. “Never expected Kuzuryuu to do something like that…”

“They can finally indict him-”

“Don’t be so sure, Makoto.” Kirigiri had crossed beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The investigator felt his cheeks grow red at the gesture but tried to brush it off. “I’m certain there’s a trick to this case…”

“I wouldn’t expect a twit like you to understand, Naegi,” Byakuya said, taking a bite of his danish. “It’s best to indict criminal circuits on white-collar crimes. I thought you were supposed to be our top researcher-”

“I am!”

“Then you should know this. Fukawa!” Togami snapped his head towards the secretary, who was busy daydreaming about nothing in particular. “Think on your own time, not on mine-”

“-I’m going to need you to ring up Koizumi,” Byakuya continued, glancing out his window to the city street below. “Got a question to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know like makoto swears. like he can LEGALLY say fuck. but...bu...t...jeezum crow


	4. noble crew of two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> newspaper staff woah rlly cool

“Think on your own time, Hinata, not on mine!”

Hajime snaps out of his daydreaming, pulled back into reality by the ringing of a dozen phones. Mahiru and Hifumi are both juggling two lines each (at least). Mahiru glanced over, tucking a phone under her ear and mouthed ‘ _Get moving.’_ Hinata practically jumped to the cause. 

“Hope’s Peak Herald, what’s your story, morning glory?”

“This is Byakuya Togami of Togami Investigators. I want to speak to your Editor-in-Chief regarding a supplemen…” Hajime rolled his eyes, twisting the cable in between his fingers. He heard all he needed to hear. Placing the receiver against his chest, he glanced over to his boss. 

“Sherlock.” He stated. Mahiru sticks out her tongue, mimicking a raspberry. It takes everything within Hajime’s power not to laugh. Going back to the line, he listens, bored out of his mind by the other man’s dribble.

“ _Yessir….yessir, Mr. Togami sir_ …. _yessir I understand sir-_ _no_ …... _no_ _sir_ . _No- uh- ……..I think I’ll have to call you back on that one_ -” and just as Byakuya began to protest, Hajime hung up the line. 

Meanwhile, Hifumi was over in the corner, wheezing. He was hired as a copy editor, dag gummit, with satirical cartoons on the side. NOT as a secretary. Taking the lull in phone calls as a heaven-sent sign, he decided to given Mahiru a (very small) piece of his mind.

“Miss Koizumi-” he began, slightly out of breath. “One must wonder if it was the best idea to publish that supplemental-”

“And what led you to that conclusion, huh?” Mahiru cut him off, just like she always did. Hifumi felt himself shrink inwards under her stern gaze alone, but he would not be defeated. For he was the Alpha and the Omega, the world’s most celebrated part-time satirical cartoonist. He had been nominated for awards for his work. Not won...but nominated. 

“May I remind you we are the only paper in town who published a story, besides the Tribune-” 

“-Tribune’s hogwash, Yamada, remember that-”

“Yes, well, that might not help our case…”

“Hifumi!” Two hands slammed down on the table as Mahiru pushed her chair backward. Her noble crew of two kept their eyes locked on her, watching as she composed herself from that little outburst. Taking a shaky breath in, Mahiru smiled (clearly strained…)

“Every newspaper in town got a packet like this, as did the police. Hajime went through a lot of work tapping into those airwaves, so acknowledge the effort we put into this.” A hand reached up to the bridge of her nose, pinching slightly. With a sigh, she shook her head. “We did our research, we wrote our disclaimer, we added our ‘rumors’ and ‘sources.’ We’re fine.

 _Even if the source is factual..._ Hinata thought to himself, hanging his phone back on the line. _I just don’t know how smart it is to use the mob as a publicity stunt…_

Just as Mahiru was about to break into a lecture on their responsibilities of spreading any and all news as _good, honorable journalists_ to the city of Hope’s Peak, there was a loud knocking at the door. The three of them froze, Hinata instinctively reaching for something taped under his desk. Mahiru shot him a glance and a gesture, _‘Stand down_ ’ she mouthed. Climbing through the jungle of wires now strung across the room, the editor braced herself for she would find. A freckled hand reached out, grabbing and turning…

...only to reveal a rather intense looking raven-haired boy. Before she could even react, a resume is shoved in her arms and a hand towards her own.

“My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru,” the boy stated, almost as if he had it memorized ‘Recited’ more than anything. “I am a local third-year student majoring in journalism, where I intend to go to law school. I would like to work for your paper and gain practical working experience before applying to graduate schools!”

Mahiru simply looked at him with an amused smirk, sticking the paper under her arm. Ishimaru, huh? A disgraced politician and a corrupt cop, real track record for family members. No way in hell she would let someone like that work for her paper…

...and yet something about him seemed so sincere. Maybe it was the way he looked vaguely like a paper sack, stuck in a cream-colored sweater vest over a too-starched collar. What genius taught the kid to dress? No one looking to impress, that’s for sure. It was almost endearing. 

Mahiru would give him ten minutes.

“Law?” She asked, leaning against the doorway. His outstretched hand remained untouched. 

“Criminal justice, ma’am.” Kiyotaka nodded, finally taking the hint. Unsure as to what to do with his hand, he quickly brushed his sweater down before placing it as his side. Mahiru shook her head at this, what’s a dumb kid doing in a place like this?

“To prosecute ’em with your old man, I presume?” She smiled, all teeth and no laughter. But Kiyotaka was not smiling. He was anything but, his expression growing solemn. The kid’s reaction made her stop, shifting her weight between her legs.

“Of course not,” He replied, leaning in a little bit closer. His eyes furrowed, and his gaze, hard. The same intensity she had seen in Takaaki’s eyes a thousand times, every interview and profile piece. But this time...the look was for something good. 

“To defend.”

Mahiru’s smile softened. Pocketing the resume, she turned on her heel, waving for him to follow. Taking his first tentative step inside, Kiyotaka looked around, in awe of the shithole office. He’d never seen anything like it before. He didn’t know that the only place to go was up. 

Mahiru navigated her way through the wires, and Ishimaru gracelessly followed. Plucking a phone out of Hifumi’s hands, she held it up to the Herald’s newest writer. 

“I like your spunk, kid. Just follow our lead, and you’ll be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone who thinks kiyotaka ishimaru is a cop is WRONG he speaks openly against unjust rules and while he believes in order he also believes that if things are not right he will defend. he sees people for their character not for their actions which is why he can defend mondo despite being a murderer in thh!!! and he cannot defend byakuya for his cruel actions even though he is technically innocent!!!!! he would be a LAWYER!!!!!!! NOT A COP!!!!!!!!!!!!


	5. static

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mobster mobster mobster mobster mobster

Elsewhere, a fist is slammed into a heavy oak desk, sending a pile of papers flying. “What the fuck is this load of horseshit?” 

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu is a man that needs no introduction, and yet I’ll still go through the trouble. His name is infamous in the city of Hope’s Peak, striking fear into pretty much anyone with a brain (and terror into anyone with a conscience.) A hot-head, known to hold a grudge. Despite owning just about every speakeasy in town, he wasn’t a drinking man. A cheat at cards. A gambler. 

Standing up, the yakuza took a swing at the chair, kicking it a few feet in the opposite direction. It slid towards Kazuichi, and he did everything in his power not to shit himself. Jack of all trades (and a master at none), he was hired as a getaway driver, but he seemed to do just about everything, nowadays, including acting as Fuyuhiko’s de facto punching bag. 

The mechanic scrambled to grab the toppled chair, flipping it right-side-over. “Hey, hey, hey!” He tried, standing behind it to create at least a semblance of a barrier. “It can’t be all bad, you know- it’s the Herald, who’d believe that crap for a second?”

“But who the fuck do they think they are, pinning it on the Kuzuryuus-”

“It’s a crime he can be acquitted on,” Peko explains calmly, ignoring her young master’s outburst. She stands completely still amidst a state of chaos, hands neatly tucked behind her back. 

“Yea, but which bastard would dare investigate?” Kazuichi offers, hoping to find a silver lining. Instead, he finds himself dodging a paperweight thrown towards his head, letting out a little  _ eep! _

“Who’d publish this crock of bullshit, anyway?”

“You know who-” a voice calls out from the other side of the room. Akane is lazily flipping through a tabloid, folding any pages she might want to reread later on. She ignores the sound of Fuyuhiko slamming his head against the table, opting to read about whatever new red lipstick Miss Junko Enoshima was promoting. She was trying to find her signature hue.

Placing his elbows on the table, Fuyuhiko held his head, letting out a long groan. “Jeezus, Mahiru’s been a fucking thorn in my side since grade school, the fuckin’ broad…”

Peko, Kazuichi, and Akane all exchanged a glance, unsure of what to say. They needed to comfort and fast, before the silence became stifling and the boss had another moment. Akane glared at the mechanic, jerking a finger towards him as if to say,  _ It’s your turn, asshole.  _ Taking a steadying breath, Kazuichi tried to be a comfort. 

“W-well boss, that mean’s Daiya’s dead, right?” He tried, shifting his weight from side-to-side. “Look at the positives here! We might not know who did it, but that’s a win for the home team, r-right…?”

Nothing. Not a word. Akane rolls her eyes, nice going dipshit; we’re all gonna get our asses chewed out. But then, a quiet chuckle came from the yakuza’s directions, his head still hanging down. It quickly bubbled into a full laugh as he threw his head back, covering his eyes with his hand. 

“Well, would ya look at that-” Fuyuhiko laughed. “The gunsel’s said something smart for once in his fucking life, wait to use your big fuckin’ brain.” 

Kazuichi gave a half-hearted laugh, unsure if he was being insulted or complimented. Something about the name he was being called made him think the former. He quickly stifled it into the cough. 

Wiping a tear from his eye, the yakuza continued. “Now we just gotta stomp out his brat brother and we’ll be home free-”

“Don’t underestimate him, bossman, he’s a shit-stirrer...” Akane shot back, tilting her chair backward. “A real piece of work, if you catch my drift-”

“Piece of shit, no doubt, the bastard!” Kazuichi exclaims, only to mutter out a quick  _ sorrysorrysorry _ after the way Fuyuhiko glares at him. 

** Bangbang. Bangbangbang. Bang.  ** Only Kazuichi seems surprised by the knock, nearly jumping out of his skin. Jesus, why was the guy so skittish. Always somethin’ to hide with him. Fuyuhiko didn’t even bother looking up. Instead, Peko acts for him, nodding towards Akane, who had been guarding the door. Shoving the wooden board out of the way, she gives the handle a heavy pull. 

In walks Nekomaru Nidai, the legendary owner of the Hope’s Peak High Heat, who pulls his babe into his arms. Fuyuhiko waves them off, making some fake gagging noises, but he can’t stay mad. Not at Nidai, good ol’ Nidai. He crosses around his desk, leaning against the front of it in a sign of amicability. 

“Nice of you to finally come around ya bastard-”

“Ain’t like I got much choice!” the manager laughed, wrapping an arm around Akane’s waist. 

“You know the drill-”

“Yeah, yeah...” his boisterous demeanor faltered for a second, picking at something in his ear. “It’ll hurt my pride more than anything, but yeah, I got the picture, loud ‘nd clear-”

Kazuichi cut him off, trying his best to be helpful. “It’ll hurt you if you don’t pull through-”

“Zip it, bird brain!” The yakuza’s voice made him shut his trap. So much for putting his foot in his mouth…

Fuyuhiko takes a single step towards Kaz, giving him the ol’ fake-out. He couldn’t help but grin, watching someone flinch under his control. That’s power right there, baby. That’s the high life. Wiping his hands on his pants, the yakuza crossed over to the guy and his doll, smiling fondly at the pair. Only two people with brain cells in this establishment, or enough of one to listen to orders. 

“Make sure Kuwata throws the game, capiche? Any scorned pride will be made up with fat pockets.”

Nidai grins at the prospect, any hesitations melting away. He extends a hand; one Fuyuhiko gladly takes...only to pull back with a yelp. 

“ _ What the fuck was that?! _ ” He cried, rubbing his hand against his shirt. 

Nidai grins. “Static.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> between this and the afterlife!au i wrote three chpaters today,,,,bruh,,,,,,,,,


	6. little red threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> newspaper gang

Life at the Herald was…. _almost_ everything Kiyotaka Ishimaru ever dreamed. He had a desk. He had coworkers! He had light banter and inside jokes! It was all so...refreshing to have a social life. Well, not a social “life” but an outlet, at least.

But prestige? There was no prestige in this.

Mahiru Koizumi ran the sloppiest tight ship you’ve ever seen if you could even wrap your head around the concept. Everything about the paper could best be described as “organized chaos.” Sure they organized their manuscripts and submitted articles, but in piles draped around the office. Everything was labeled, but there was no rhyme or reason. Stories were sensational. Facts were checked but always embellished. 

He liked his coworkers, heck--he liked his boss! Mahiru and Hajime and Hifumi had all been so kind to him, the kindness he had never been extended before, all because of his family name. But something about this paper didn’t sit right with him. Something about this town didn’t sit right. It never did. 

“Hey, kid, got an assignment for you,” Hajime called out from across the room. Ishimaru turned around, causing the too-high stack of newspapers he was carrying to tilt forward. Stumbling, he overcorrected, trying to keep everything from falling. 

Everyone called him kid, which was technically true, but he’d never had a nickname before. That’s not true. He’d been called snitch before, and an abercrombie. But nothing endearing. He quite liked it to tell you the truth. 

“What do you need?” Taka asked, placing the pile on the closest flat surface (which just so happened to be Hifumi’s desk. The copy editor glared at him, but there was no anger behind the look…) Navigating through the mess of telephone wire and chairs, he made his way to the bulletin board Hajime was standing by. 

“Take a look at this and tell me if you can draw any conclusions…” Hajime gestured at the board, covered in photos and scraps, all held together with lines of red string. “Mahiru’s latest concoction, all about that Maizono disappearance. I’ve been staring at it for so long,I can’t make heads or tails of it. I need a fresh pair of peepers.”

Five minutes went by before the young journalist said a word, taking it all in. He walked closer to the board, reading the scraps. He stepped farther away, looking for any underlying pattern. He even turned his head to the side, trying a new perspective. It was all small details. Relationship? Romance angle? Involvement with mobs? Family history? Most of the board seemed more like “fiction” than “fact,” conspiracies to make the story sensationalized when, in reality, there was hardly anything detailing the girl’s disappearance.

Kiyotaka had read some reports, the ones he would sneak away from his father’s office in the dead of night. Nothing. Not a trace. Not even the police could make heads or tails of this case, let alone the private investigators. It was the first time Taka had ever heard his father willingly work with the Togami Investigators. Still, it seemed like a necessary...not “evil,” per se, but a necessary precaution. No stone left unturned. Not for such an up-and-coming celebrity. 

And here Mahiru was, wholly focused on interviewing possible “lovers” for their takes. There was a list of names, individuals that tabloids caught “in an act.” Some he recognized. Leon Kuwata, baseball player and playboy. Ibuki Mioda, a bandmate and confidante. Makoto Naegi, who Kiyotaka had never heard of personally, but his name was mentioned in the Togami reports, so he was probably important. But others he didn’t recognize. Who was Mukuro Ikusaba? 

More importantly, why were possible romantic connections the part of the case his Editor-in-Chief was so focused upon?

Ishimaru shook his head, giving a heavy sigh. It was hopeless. “I am sorry, Hinata, but this board means nothing to me.”

“Well--” Hajime paused before giving a light chuckle. “At least I’m not the only one who thinks this is the ravings of a mad man.”

“If you don’t mind me butting in-” Hifumi called out from his desk, readjusting his glasses. “I know you didn’t ask for my opinion, but I would like to give it nonetheless.”

“Is that a request or a statement?” Hajime turned around to ask. 

“A statement,” Hifumi replied. “Mahiru seems too occupied with “who” might have been involved with Maizono’s disappearance. I believe it might be more important to figure out how she disappeared in the first place.”

“No eyewitnesses,” Kiyotaka replied. Hajime glanced over to the younger man, unsure how he had this information. He either had a good intuition, or he knew more than he was letting on. 

“I have a gut feeling that’ll all change soon.” Hifumi reached up, giving a big stretch before twisting around in his chair a few times. It was necessary to stretch at a sedentary job like his. “I do believe Maizono’s body will turn up sooner rather than later.”

“And why do you say that?” Hajime asked, kicking a foot up and taking a seat on his desk.

“Well, think about it! A high profile individual cannot just up and disappear. She will show back up, eventually. Like a statement. It’s hard not to make a statement in this sort of thing.”

“And what if it’s not a statement?” 

“Vanishing off the face of the Earth is a statement, no matter which way you look at it.”

Hajime nodded before pulling out a notebook from his pockets. Jotting a few words down, he stuck it squarely in the middle of the board. 

Kiyotaka glanced over, reading the scribbles. _Try a new angle._ Solid advice. 

With all that said and done, Hajime reached out a friendly hand and gave his newest coworker a pat on the shoulder. “Well, kid, you were a real help today-”

“I was?” Kiyotaka asked, a little surprised.

“...not really,” Hajime admits. “But you know what sounds killer right about now? A coffee.”

“Oooo, I would love a coffee~” Hifumi chimes in from the other side of the room. 

“You hear that? Hifumi loves the idea!” Hajime reaches into his pocket, fishing for a wad of crumpled-up cash. “Why don’t you take this lull in the work day, run down to Hanamura Diner, and pick us up a carton of coffee.”

“And maybe some beignets while you’re at it…?”

“Love it, love that idea! Coffee and beignets, and you might as well get yourself somethin’ while you’re down there, too.” 

Hajime clapped the money into Kiyotaka’s outstretched hand. Right. No matter how hard he wanted to be their equal, to be their coworker and friend, he was still just the errands boy for now. Someday he’ll get his big break, going from supplements to special reports. But right now, he was a coffee boy. 

Taka returned the gesture with a tight-lipped smile and a nod, before turning for the door. As he exited the office, he felt hot tears well up behind his eyes, tears of frustration, tears of embarrassment. How could he think of himself as their equal? And yet, just for a moment, he was taken seriously, part of a story. Oh, how he wanted to be part of a story, just once. 

The walk went fast, a couple of blocks passing by in a second. Kiyotaka was too stuck in his head to notice the blocks he passed. He was too stuck in his head to see trolleys or taxis. He was too stuck in his head to notice the pair of figures who started following him about three blocks back, always trailing a few steps behind. 

He was too stuck in his head to see the shit-eating grin, some smug bastard looking to heckle him, just like always. _You Taakaki’s kid? Just another snitch, no doubt._ He was too stuck in his head to fight back. He was too stuck in his head to see a fight coming.

He was too stuck in his head to anticipate the swing, or two pairs of arms wrapped around his shoulders, dragging him into a back alley. He was too stuck in his head to feel the blows, at first, at least. The way fists landed into his stomach knocked the wind out of him, and he was now stuck on the ground, unable to fight back. He was stuck. Oh god, he was stuck.

A pair of steel-toed boots kicked his side, over and over, blow after blow—the same shit-eating grin, with dirty blonde hair flopping past his eyes. And behind him stood a man, far more menacing than the one currently kicking the daylights out of him. A proud man. A dangerous man. 

Lavender eyes met red, observing as the scene played out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey uhhhh how r u guys liking it so far? i know we're still introducing ppl but like, i hope you can see where this is kinda going. or not that's cool. as ive said before i hope the twists aren't 2 obvious. we do be building tho. i know we're still like i teh setting/beginning of rising action, but like- who is ur favorite group so far? i just like hearing thoughts aksdfljasfj i adore comments


	7. the dead of the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fast car go zoom to crime scene

A Chrysler tore through the streets, no competition in the dead of night. Any other time there might be a cop on patrol, someone ready to pull the pair aside and heap upon the tickets. But tonight was not like other nights. There was something more significant than traffic safety running amok.

Kirigiri flexed her hands over the wheel, taking in the rub of leather against leather. Makoto sat beside her with one hand clutching his head, holding onto his hat for dear life. She was the better driver of the two - she was better at most everything. 

He kept his eye out the window, watching as city buildings and streetlights flew by. It was all a blur. Had it not been such an extreme circumstance, it might even be beautiful. But Byakuya had dialed them up at the nearest payphone and told them to come down to the bridge at the intersection of Port and Seventy-Sixth, and make it snappy. Whatever was happening must be big for Togami to stoop so low as to use public property.

Every now and then, he would glance over at the driver, mesmerized by the greatest person he’d ever met, working on the same investigation. And then his mind would wander, and he would flush a scarlet red, all freckles and blush, and he would have to look away less her keen detective skills exposed him. Hell, he was probably exposed a long time ago. Kirigiri was smart as a tack. That’s one of a million reasons he admired her. 

Kirigiri reached over, fiddling with the transmitter. Makoto noticed and brushed her hand away, urging her to focus on the road. Turning the dial, he waited until Takaaki’s voice rang out, clear a bell. She was good at a million things, but someone had to keep Kyoko grounded. That’s his job on the team. He can do that. 

He smiled, watching her scrunch up her nose at the police chief’s voice, a microexpression most others would miss. When you work with someone for years, you pick up on those sorts of things. Sighing, he leaned back against the window, head on the pane.

“So, what do you think this is all about, anyway?”

“Not tax fraud,” Kyoko replied, adjusting her rear mirror. “That could wait ’til the morning.”

“Think it’s mob stuff?”

“Maybe something tangentially related, but nothing direct. Ishimaru would never let us get involved.”

The researcher adjusted in his seat, his head turned slightly to the side. “...do you think he takes bribes from the mob?”

Kyoko glances over. Lavender eyes met brown in the reflection. 

“Do you?”

He didn’t know. 

They spent the rest of their ride in relative silence, the hum of the motor filling the void. As they pulled closer to the scene of the crime, the pair began to see more and more activity. Cop cars, civilian cars, people were milling about. Police officers and guard tape, shutting off the area to prying eyes. Makoto swore he saw a pair scramble onto a nearby fire escape, but by the time he was able to process, the car had already passed by.

Parking was difficult, having to circle a few times before finally settling for a walk. As they approached the scene, someone called out. 

“Kirigiri! Naegi!” They both looked up and low and beheld, who was calling their names other than Mahiru Koizumi. He didn’t even realize she  _ knew  _ their names. 

“Evening, Koizumi,” Kirigiri replied, words icy and measured. 

“I’d say, a great one at that. I’m ready for some action.”

Makoto frowned. “That’s a twisted way to look at life, Mahiru…”

“And it’s a twisted city,” she replied. “Question - could one of you be a doll and ask Ishimaru how his son is doing for me?”

“Why, what happened?” 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, genius-”

“And I’m also here!” Hajime called out from behind his camera, testing out different lenses for different shots. Makoto waved. The reporter waved back. 

“There you two are-” A shrewd voice rang over the crowd, breaking any amicable banter. Togami sounded pissed. He always sounded pissed, but tonight there was an added  _ oomph.  _ There was an authority in his walk; one most people do not possess. People practically jumped out of his warpath, a man on a mission. And Kirigiri greeted his irritation with a gentle smile. Yet another reason Makoto…

He didn’t know “what” this was. But he liked it.

Without waiting for an explanation or sorry excuse, Byakuya grabbed both of their wrists, dragging them back whence he came. Makoto stammered out a million little things like  _ There was traffic,  _ and  _ We came as fast as we could,  _ and  _ How was your evening, anyways, sir? _ But Togami didn’t care. 

“Why didn’t you tell us more on the line?” Kirigiri asked, far more direct than Makoto’s winding statements. 

“Wiretaps, you can never be too careful,” Togami finally acknowledged their existence. 

“Which case is this related to?”

“Not one we’ve had before tonight-”

“Togami!” Byakuya had carried the pair to the belly of the beast, a man overseeing this entire operation. Takaaki Ishimaru, Chief of Police of Hope’s Peak. He was a crusty old son-of-a-bitch who didn’t take jackshit from no one. He had power, and he knew it. He was a dangerous man. But in Hope’s Peak, they all were. 

Makoto felt himself shrink under his intense stare, the way red eyes bore into his soul. Everything about him was intense, like a nuclear warhead about to explode. There was an outlying coolness he kept on, a facade intact, but everyone knew he was a pot about to boil over. Right now, the feeling was palpable. 

And yet Kirigiri could stay calm in the face of the man (no, beast) who invited them all here. “What is the status of the situation.”

“Complete lockdown, pulled out as many stops as I could get. This case needs to be treated with more...sensitivity than most are shown.”

“Must be bad.”

“Oh, it is,” Takaaki glanced over, looking Makoto once over. “At attention, young man. What is it, exactly, that you are staring at?”

The brunette jerked up straight, taking his hands out of his pockets. “I- um…”

“Out with it, boy-”

“Well, you see, uh…”

“ _ Out with it!!!” _

_ “ _ A, a-uh, a mutual friend of ours asked to check in on your son….but I wasn’t sure this was the right time…”

Ishimaru narrowed his eyes, eyebrows somehow even angrier. “It’s no. Kiyotaka is fine. Moving on-”

He pushed back a few more yards, whispering into their ears. Makoto wished he could make out just exactly what he was expecting, but the scene was too crowded, and the sound absorbed. After a few minutes of deliberation, Takaaki turned back towards them.

“I will be frank- this is a murder scene,” he explained, holding his hands in front of him as a sign of good faith. “And it’s a gruesome one at that, maybe the worst I’ve ever seen-”

“We called you,” he continued, looking straight at Byakuya. “Because this crime is too big for our in-house investigative department. We would appreciate the backup help.”

After a pause, Togami smiled, stretching out a hand. “We’ll do it. Let’s discuss the price in the morning.” Takaaki took it, giving it a firm singular  _ shake.  _

With that settled, Takaaaki pushed back the final tarp doors under the Port Street bridge, revealing a blood bath. Blood on the tunnel walls. Blood on the road. Hell, there were even splatters of blood on the ceiling. 

And in the middle of it all was a girl Makoto knew, a long, long time ago. It took a moment to register, but once he realized who this was, it hit him like a goddamned truck. The investigator took a step back, and then another, nearly stumbling over his feet. 

Togami didn’t notice. He knew of the body, but he hadn’t seen it, stuck in a state of shock. Kirigiri, however, turned, and a flash of worry crossed her face. 

“...Makoto?”

He didn’t answer. He just threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh shit oh fuck things heating up here


	8. PLACE HOLDER - UPDATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi im so sorry i disappeared plz i promise i have a reason

hi hi hi sorry this went on a surprise hiatus im gonna come back BUT i am in a place rn where i have like. 2 chapters and an epilogue left of my thh afterlife!au and i rlly should just finish that rn. so im gonna hopefully crank that out by the end of the week and i can come back to this one full force. godbless. plz spare me mr mobster man i have a wife and kids god i rlly left u guys on a douchebag cliffhanger lmaooooo

read the to reckon anthology/death after death after death. the whole series i have been working on since april and it's ending like. this week. ive devoted 40k to this series so far, and i'll prob devote 50k by the end of it. it's a wholeass novel u guys. i wrote harry potter. god bless. its a little sad that it's over. but also like. new stuff! the story i have wanted to tell for three months has finally been told. and im happy with it. i just hope you guys don't let it die. 

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thank you for reading this series!! plz consider book marking this bc it will be a LONG one. i have a lot planned and would love it if u guys kept reading.
> 
> also i absolutely adore comments so plz!! feel free to talk down there or like what the mystery/twists r gonna be bc i think they're clever? idk IM Proud of this one at least.
> 
> CONSIDER READING MY OTHER LONG FORM SERIES, TO RECKON! It's an afterlife au for thh.
> 
> my cos insta, tiktok, tumblr and spotify are all bipp_splapl. plz find me !!! i have a playlist im working on that's general ~vibes~ for this one https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7qqj3DzuPmnXMXU5WxDmTO?si=F0bElWiwSvS4fMd84dTujQ if u ever make anything at all inspired by this or anything i write PLZ LEMME KNOW AAAAAAA


End file.
